


expose your throat; keep this heart.

by spills



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (?), Begging, Consensual Choking, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, komori motoya is having thoughts, miya atsumu is a little soft, the fic was supposed to be h-word but then i had #feelings, wait also
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:22:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28186086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spills/pseuds/spills
Summary: “Then I’ll take care of you, simple as that.”
Relationships: Komori Motoya/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	expose your throat; keep this heart.

**Author's Note:**

> the atsukomos have inflitrated my brain  
> thank u lia and kay for enabling me

_ I will choke ya though, don’t worry. _

Atsumu makes good on his promise, or rather he’s always been the type to make good on his promises - according to Rin at least. Said iconic moment being Inarizaki’s spectacular loss to Karasuno in their second-year, pointing at the international volleyball darling Hinata Shouyou and declaring that he would set to the rookie first year one day. Hinata had only stayed for a season before returning to Brazil, but a season on the same team is enough to fulfill a seven-year promise.

Atsumu’s sets are done with extreme care and the delicate placement of fingers, making sure that the ball arrives at the perfect position for his spikers. Motoya wouldn’t know any of that though, because it’s been eight? Nine? Almost a decade since he had given up his position in the front row; sometimes he wonders what it would mean to feel the sting of PVC and leather against the flat of his palm, slam it down the opposite side of the court. His life centres around receiving everything it throws at him now though and he doesn’t like thinking about what ifs. Compared to Atsumu’s skill in setting, of course Motoya pales, but he has more than few emergency sets in his career as a libero that helped cinch a set, so he likes to think that he isn’t too shoddy. Sure, Miya Atsumu the setter is a big deal in the V. League circuit - but he’s a big server too. 

Tri-wielder these days: jump-serve, floater and hybrid - it makes playing against Miya Atsumu so much fun - blood pumping in his veins when he wonders what the man across the court is about to give. Is anyone else aware of just how powerful the other man is in strength and precision? Probably why he manages to get the ball exactly where and when it needs to be. 

Careful fingers that hide so much power, applying strength when necessary - Motoya’s head feels so light being at Atsumu’s mercy. His boyfriend applying more and more pressure between the thumb and index and he’s unable to help the moan that’s exhaled with his gasps. 

"How are ya feeling?" Atsumu leans low, his words warm against the apple of Motoya's cheek before he nibbles on the shell of the other man’s ear. 

“Good, r-really good,” the words rasp out from his throat, his toes are curling from how good it feels, “H-harder,” but Atsumu only loosens his grip and suddenly, Motoya’s lungs are too full of air contrasting his light head. He feels like a balloon weighed down by a rock, when all he wants is to be cut loose. “Tsumu-'' he whines petulantly, “why?”

“Forgot to say the magic words,” Atsumu grins devilishly, one hand digging into the meat of Motoya’s thigh, bending it backwards into the headboard. It’s a little bit of a stretch, to even out his position, Motoya throws his other leg over Atsumu’s shoulder. 

“You’re such a fucking tease,” Motoya huffs. Atsumu only laughs at him, one big palm resting around his throat doing nothing. 

“That’s not a very nice thing to say ‘toya. If you wanted it bad, you’d beg instead of calling me names,” Atsumu jeers before kissing the tip of Motoya’s nose. The action is sweet, but unfortunately not what Motoya wants this very moment. Begging it is, because Atsumu has always been quick to crumble as long as Motoya was sweet about it. 

“Fuck-” Motoya wraps one leg around Atsumu’s waist and pleads, “‘tsumu, please?” keens next words, “please- want you to take my breath away. Want you to leave me breathless-” and  _ oh _ , a sharp inhale as Atsumu presses his thumb into Motoya’s windpipe. 

“Just like this?” Atsumu murmurs and Motoya shudders, eyes fluttering shut. 

“Yeah,” and the word is just a staccato of sound while Atsumu proceeds to add more force - bit by bit until oxygen is nothing but a whistle passing through his mouth. Breathing through his mouth, but Atsumu takes that away from him too when he presses their mouth together, slipping his tongue between the seam of his lips. 

Takes his breath like Motoya had asked, takes everything that Motoya has and when he thinks his lungs are about to give out - Atsumu lets his hold go slack and the black dots in Motoya’s vision now seem like stars. Atsumu pulling away and Motoya thinks that the other man could be an angel if he wanted to try. Rearranged his personality a little - less selfish, less greedy - but if he were an angel, Motoya thinks he wouldn’t have been able to love him this much. Flipside however, angels had always seemed to have a crueler edge, following the orders of a nameless God, but here Atsumu does everything he wants to his own whims and isn’t that perfect? 

“Hey puppy,” Atsumu bites down on his bottom lip, “still good? Did I hold down too long?” and it was too long, Motoya would have given three taps, but it’s nice that Atsumu still checks up on him. Motoya’s a little dizzy, but that’s fine because it’s what he wanted in the first place. He’s thinking about tomorrow; finger-shaped bruises around his neck like a necklace. Ever since dating Atsumu, he’s been wearing more turtlenecks for Sunday brunch with Kiyoomi, because he’s considerate of his cousin’s sanity. 

“You would know if you did,” his voice is hoarse, leans up for another kiss, smiling against the other man’s mouth. Hand on his cheek, and Motoya still finds it funny how gentle the other man is with him. 

“If I did, huh? Don’t you think that’s a little vague? You know I don’t deal in faith like that - just expectation,” Atsumu kisses back, then licks up the salt staining Motoya’s cheek. Always unable to keep his mouth shut, always unable to keep his tongue inside said mouth. Motoya likes him so much he would think it embarrassing were he still in high school. Having a crush on Miya Atsumu felt akin to a private execution of his own demise - if only he knew back then that this man would be capable of holding others tenderly with a hint of care. 

Five fingers around Motoya’s throat, the other five fingers laced together with Motoya’s own - Motoya left with five fingers to himself which he has in Atsumu’s hair. 

“It’s not about faith, ‘tsumu,” Motoya answers, runs his fingers against the other man’s scalp, “It’s simply about taking care of what belongs to you.” 

The other man blushes at that, gawks really, and Motoya can’t help himself, distangles his fingers from Atsumu’s to have both arms to himself, wraps them around Atsumu’s neck to steady himself as he presses their foreheads together. 

“Ya saying you’re mine?” Atsumu licks his lips, and Motoya is guessing that his boyfriend’s throat has gone dry. Good, because Motoya likes leaving him speechless. 

“And if I am?” 

Atsumu flips their position around, his back now against the mattress, and Motoya landing on top of him gracelessly, head hitting his chest with a little  _ oof _ . He can hear the other man’s heart thumping against his ribcage like a drum. It’s loud, Motoya wants to hold it in his hands. He wonders if Atsumu would let him have this, wonders how long he would be allowed to keep this heart. 

“Then I’ll take care of you, simple as that.” 

**Author's Note:**

> at this point my [ twitter ](https://twitter.com/rinrintoya) is a komori motoya shrine i dont even know what im doing anymore


End file.
